With my heart pounding in my chest, I keep moving, my stride purposeful, and I pull ahead of Ham. We barrel past the goat pen, where Crunch is actively chewing on the fence post we just fixed. Just like that I’m sweating through my shirt—and it’s not from the heat. It’s from the fact I’m about to confess to Ham I’ve volunteered to set up his sister.
I abruptly stop. He almost crashes into me. “Okay,” I say, bracing myself. “I did something, and I need you to not punch me in the face.”
He gives me a slow side-eye. “I can’t agree to take punching off the table until I know what happened. What did you do to Lottie?”
“So, I know you’re protective of her—”
“Just say it,” he snaps, and his normally wide nostrils grow rounder.
I’m cooked.
I inhale and blurt everything out in one long breath, “Your mom came up with some garbage plan for Lottie to fake date for PR to get the media off her recent flub.”
Ham groans instantly. “Of course she did. It’s never her fault. She always wants someone else to fix things. Did Mom set her up with someone awful?”
“Well, she doesn’t have anyone picked yet, but it sounds like she has her mind set on Brett.”
“Brett?” He blanches. “Ew. That’s a hard no. He’s a creep.”
“I know!”
A beat of crackling silence passes while I picture what it’s going to look like when he punches me. He’s not a hockey player. I doubt he’s thrown a lot of punches. He probably doesn’t have much more than a right hook. I can block that easy. When I take a peek at his hand, I find his palm flat against his side. Sweet, he hasn’t even made a fist yet. I’m good. For now.
“So, what is it that you did?” he asks slowly as his eyes narrow on me. “You aren’t going to fake date Lottie, are you?”
“No!” I say, feeling my whole life crumble. “That would be weird.” My voice squawks. Suddenly, I’m grateful Lottie’s mom had that “no hockey player” clause. That would make this conversation so much worse. “I couldn’t do that. It’s Lottie. She’s like my sister, you know.” I ramble as sweat pours down my lower back. “And I just—look, I couldn’t stand there and watch her go into a full meltdown about being forced to date Brett. So I said I could set her up with someone. You know, vet a guy who’s—well—a good guy and doesn’t wear a bow tie.”
Ham stares at me as a wall of judgment washes over his face. “You said what?”
“I said I could set her up.”
“With who?”
Gulping, I rack my brain. All the guys I know are hockey players, except Ham, and well, hockey players are off-limits. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll figure something out.”
“You’re setting up my sister with some dude you don’t even know yet?”
“Yes. Apparently, I agreed to something like that.”
He puts both hands on his hips like a disappointed gym teacher. “What is going on?”
“To be honest, I’m not really sure, I just couldn’t let her go out with Brett. You know he’s a creep.”
“This is Lottie we’re talking about.” He points aggressively at the house. “She’s been on, like, one date her whole life. She knows nothing about our species. Do you understand what you’re getting her into?”
“I DIDN’T WANT TO!” I yell, then wince. “Okay, that sounds bad. I mean, look, it wasn’t like a plan. I’m not exactly in the matchmaking business. I had this weird flashback of her at the bar with that jerk, Bow Tie. I couldn’t let that happen to her again. At least this way, if I vet the dude, we can make sure he’s not a creep.” I drag my palms down my face. “Also,” I add miserably, “I think she agreed to it.”
Ham glares at me for a horrifyingly long moment. Then he sighs and rubs his jaw. “Be honest. Are you crushing on my sister?”
“No!” I lie, and, to change the subject, I add, “I also agree with your mom that the attention needs to get off how bad us hockey guys are, so it’s like my good deed to help my team. Since my team is playing for this country, it was the patriotic thing to do.”
He arches a brow, leaning in with a heated glare that feels more like a staring contest. I lose that contest in about three seconds. “Okay,” I whisper, and then proceed to pour my heart out. “I’m extremely into her and have been for years. You canhate me, but that’s just where I’m at. I won’t do anything to act on these feelings, but there’s no way I’m letting her run off into the sunset with some fake date. I’ve seen how these rom-coms play out. The fake dates always end up married. I’ll set her up with someone who’s a total dweeb and sabotage the whole situation. It’ll be one fake date that doesn’t get a happy ever after.”
A wave of crimson washes over his face, not stopping until his ears are flaming red. “Are you nuts?”
“Maybe.” I gulp again, as apparently this is my new fidget. “Are you mad?”
“Oh, I’m mad,” he says, pointing at me with a sharp index finger. “But mostly because now I have to be involved in a fake relationship scheme, which is, like, my nightmare. And not just because it’s Lottie. It’s my mom, and she won’t let it fail. You don’t understand my mom. She has clearly seen all the rom-com movies too. She knows if this is played well, Lottie will fall in love. She wants this to be Lottie’sendgame.”
